Im in no position to really judge what you do. But, to me, youre not judges, youre policymakers. And what that policy will be depends on who lobbies hard enough to get five votes. What does that have to do with the rights of one plaintiff and one defendant? As soon as Fiske had finished speaking he had a sudden, depressing thought: He had no room to complain about the Court and how it operated. He spent all his time dodging the truth on behalf of his clients. In a way, that was worse than anything the Court did or didnt do in the name of justice. They drove in silence for a minute until Knight broke it. I started out as a prosecutor. And then became a trial judge. She paused. I cant tell you that your feelings are wrong. Fiske looked mildly surprised. John, we could debate this until were both sick of it, but the fact is there is a system in place and one must work within that system. If that means playing by its rules and, on occasion, bending them, so be it. Perhaps thats an oversimplified philosophy for a complex situation, but sometimes you have to go with your gut. She looked at him. Do you know what I mean?

He nodded. My instincts are pretty good.

And what do your instincts tell you about Michael and Stevens deaths? Is there anything to this story of the missing appeal? If there is, I would really like to know about it.

Why ask me?

Because you seem to know more than anyone else. Thats why I wanted to talk to you in private.

Are you really hoping that I killed my brother and Im using this appeal as a red herring? That way the Court doesnt get a black eye.

I didnt say that.

You said as much to Sara at your party.

Knight sighed and sat back. Im not sure why I did. Perhaps to scare her away from you.

I didnt kill my brother.

I believe you. So this missing appeal may be important?

Fiske nodded. My brother was killed because he knew what that appeal said. I think Wright was killed because he was working late, came out of his office and saw someone at the Court going through my brothers office.

She turned pale. You believe someone at the Court murdered Steven? Fiske nodded. Can you prove that?

I hope so.

That cant be, John. Why?

Theres a guy whos spent half his life in prison whod like to know the answer to that.

Does Detective Chandler know all this?

Some of it. But Agent McKenna has pretty much convinced him Im the bad guy.

Im not sure Detective Chandler believes that.

Well see.

As Fiske dropped Knight back at the Court, she said, If everything you suspect is true and someone at the Court is involved in this . . . She stopped, unable to continue for a moment. Do you realize what this could do to the Courts reputation?

Im not sure of a lot in life, but Im certain of one thing. He paused and then said, The Courts reputation isnt worth an innocent man dying in prison.

["C53"]CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Rufus looked anxiously over at his brother, who had just finished an exhausting coughing fit. Josh tried to sit up a little, thinking that would help his breathing. His insides, he knew, were all but destroyed. Something important to keeping him alive might burst at any moment. He still held the pistol against his side. But it didnt look like a bullet would be needed to end his life. At least, not another one. It was fortunate for them that Tremaine and Rayfield hadnt come in an Army vehicle. But the Jeep did have one crushed side from being broadsided by the truck and this would draw unwanted attention to them. At least it had a cloth top, which prevented anyone from getting a good glimpse of what was inside. Rufus didnt know where he was going, and Josh moved in and out of lucidity too much to really help him. Rufus flipped open the glove box and pulled out a map. He studied it quickly and traced the route to Richmond with his finger. He had to get to the highway. If he had to he would stop and ask directions. He pulled the little card out of his shirt pocket and glanced at the names and telephone numbers. Now he just had to find a phone. *����*����* When Fiske and McKenna arrived at Fiskes office, the FBI agent said, Lets get to it.

We wait for the police, Fiske said firmly. Just as he said that, a police cruiser pulled up and Officer Hawkins climbed out.

What the hecks going on here, John? Hawkins asked, perplexed. Fiske pointed at McKenna. Agent McKenna thinks I killed Mike. Hes here to get my gun so he can do a ballistics test.

Hawkins looked at McKenna with hostile eyes. If thats not the biggest bunch of bullshit I ever heard . . .

Right, thanks for your official assessment Officer Hawkins, is it? McKenna said, coming forward.

Thats right, Hawkins said grimly.

Well, Officer Hawkins, you have the consent of Mr. Fiske to search his office for a nine-millimeter pistol registered to his name. He looked at Fiske. Im assuming you are still giving that consent. When Fiske didnt respond, McKenna looked back at Hawkins. Now, if you have a problem with that, then lets go talk to your boss and you can start planning another career outside of law enforcement.

Before Hawkins could do something foolish, Fiske grabbed his sleeve and said, Lets just go get this over with, Billy.

As they walked into the building, Fiske commented, Your face looks a lot better.

Hawkins smiled, embarrassed. Yeah, thanks.

What happened? McKenna asked. Hawkins looked at him sullenly. Guy decided to take a ride on drugs. He was a little difficult to arrest.

There was a stack of mail and packages in front of Fiskes office door. He picked them up and unlocked the door. They went inside and Fiske walked over to his desk and dropped the stack of mail on it. He slid open the top drawer and looked inside. He stuck his hand in and fumbled through the contents before looking up at both men. It was right in this drawer. I actually saw it the day you came to tell me about Mike, Billy.

McKenna crossed his arms and eyed Fiske sternly. Okay, has anybody else had access to your office? Cleaning crew, secretary, delivery people, window washers?

No, nobody. Nobody else has a key, except for the landlord.

Hawkins said, Youve been gone, what, two days or so?

Thats right.

McKenna was looking at the door. But theres no signs of forced entry.

Hawkins said, That doesnt mean anything. Person who knew what they were doing could pick that lock and youd never even know it.

Who knew you kept the gun here? McKenna asked.

Nobody.

Maybe one of your clients took it so hed have a piece of ordnance to knock over a bank with, McKenna said.

I dont interview clients in my office, McKenna. Theyre usually in prison by the time I get the call.

Well, it looks like we have a little problem here. Your brother was killed by a nine-millimeter slug. You have a nine-millimeter Sig registered to you. You admit it was actually in your possession as of a few days ago. Now that pistol is missing. You have no alibi for the time of your brothers death and youre a half million bucks richer because of his death.

Hawkins glanced over at Fiske. A life insurance policy Mike took out, Fiske explained. It was for Mom and Dad.

At least thats your story, right? McKenna added. Fiske edged closer to McKenna. If you think you have enough to charge me, then do it. If not, get the hell out of my office.

McKenna wasnt fazed. I believe Officer Hawkins has your consent to search your entire office for the gun, not just the drawer you said it was in. Now, friend or not, I would expect him to carry out his sworn duty.

Fiske backed off and looked over at Hawkins. Go ahead, Billy. Im going down to the corner caf�or something to drink. You want anything? Hawkins shook his head.

I could use a cup of coffee, McKenna said, following Fiske out. Itll give us a chance to have a little talk. *����*����* Sara pulled her car into the driveway. She took a deep breath. The Buick was there. As she got out of the car, the smell of cut grass hit her. It was comforting, taking her back to high school football games, lazy summers in the peace of the Carolinas. When she knocked on the door, it was jerked open so quickly she almost fell off the stoop. Ed Fiske must have watched her drive up. Before he could slam the door in her face, she held the photo out to him. There were four people in the photo: Ed and Gladys Fiske and their two sons. They all wore broad smiles. Ed looked questioningly at Sara.